


A New Beginning

by owenharpersgirl



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Dysfunctional Family, Fluff and Angst, Gen, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-27
Updated: 2014-05-27
Packaged: 2018-01-26 16:54:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1695602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owenharpersgirl/pseuds/owenharpersgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happened to Les Amis de l'ABC between the final fight at the barricade and the barricade in Heaven? How will Enjolras react to Grantaire's decision to die by his side?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A New Beginning

It was quiet. Too quiet. Enjolras opened his eyes and then snapped them shut again. Why was it so bright? He slowly opened his eyes again, blinking against the harsh light. As his eyes adjusted he realized he was staring up at the ceiling of the Café Musain. What had happened? Why was it so quiet?

Suddenly, the memories of the day hit him. Eponine taking a bullet for Marius, Gavroche climbing over the barricade to retrieve ammunition and not coming back flashed before his eyes. He remembered Combeferre, Courfeyrac, and Joly standing behind him one minute and the next they were on the ground staring up at him with unseeing eyes. Enjolras thought of Grantaire… oh Grantaire. He didn’t even believe in the revolution and yet he died for it. He could have remained hidden, but instead he stood alongside Enjolras as they defied the National Guard.

Enjolras stood slowly and looked around him. The Café looked exactly as he remembered it before the battle. Tables and chairs were neat and orderly, not knocked over and turned to splinters as they had been only moments ago. Enjolras looked down at himself where the eight bullets had struck his chest. But there was nothing there. His shirt and red jacket were intact, not a thread out of place. He stumbled towards the stairs, determined to find out what was going on. However, before he could go anywhere, two people had rushed upstairs.

“Enjolras!” Combeferre cried in relief. The philosophical student walked forward and embraced the revolutionary leader.

“You’re alright,” Enjolras said.

“It seems that way,” the man who had come up the stairs with Combeferre said and Enjolras pulled away from his friend to look at the other boy.

“Grantaire,” he said and walked forward to wrap his arms around his friend.

“I’m flattered Enjolras,” Grantaire said, “I’ve never known you to be so affectionate.” Enjolras released his friend and flashed him one of his rare smiles. However, his smile soon fell as he looked at his friends.

“What did you mean ‘it seems that way’?” Enjolras asked.

“We all remember getting shot,” Combeferre told him, “And yet we are all unharmed.”

“So, we are dead and yet, we’re still here?” Enjolras questioned, hating how confused he felt.

“Apparently,” Grantaire said, taking a swig from the whisky bottle he had found.

“Is anyone else here?” Enjolras questioned.

“Everyone,” Combeferre told him, “Courfeyrac, Feuilly, Joly, Jehan, Bossuet, Bahorel, Gavroche, Marius’ shadow Eponine, and all the others.”

“What of Marius himself?” Enjolras asked.

“We have not seen him,” Combeferre said, “Joly mentioned seeing the old volunteer carry him off so we think he may still be alive.”

“Good,” Enjolras nodded, “Now he can go be with that woman he wouldn’t stop going on about.”

“Come, we should go down to the others,” Combeferre said, clapping Enjolras on the back.

“Yes alright,” Enjolras nodded again, “But first, Combeferre could you give Grantaire and I a moment?” Combeferre looked between them for a moment before nodding and heading down the stairs alone. Enjolras waited until his friend was out of sight before turning to Grantaire. The drunkard wasn’t looking at him, but rather he was closely examining the bottle in his had.

“Grantaire,” Enjolras said, but the other man didn’t respond, “Grantaire why did you do it?”

“Do what?” Grantaire asked, still not making eye contact with the other man. Enjolras didn’t like this side of his friend. Where was the sarcastic, nihilist drunk he was so used to seeing?

“Why did you stand with me? You could have stayed hidden; stayed alive,” Enjolras pointed out.

“Would I really have been alive if all of you were dead?” Grantaire questioned, finally looked at his friend, “I know you all see me as a useless drunkard who doesn’t believe in anything, and for the most part that’s true, but if it weren’t for all of you I probably would not have last as long as I did.”

“Grantaire, that’s not –” Enjolras started, but the other man cut him off. For some reason feeling that he needed to tell his friend everything.

“It is true Enjolras,” Grantaire insisted, “My family has all-but disowned me and the only people who, for some reason which I still do not understand, actually care about me, is you and the others. I don’t understand why. I mean, I walked into that Café one day with Jehan and suddenly I couldn’t leave. I didn’t care about the revolution or any of that, but I heard you speak and I knew that I was done. Whether I believed in the cause or not, I was involved. I was involved because you were involved.”

Enjolras was staring at Grantaire in shock. He was used to speaking to people and having people speak to him about the revolution. But not Grantaire. He had never heard the other man speak like this. It wasn’t like his drunken ramblings about how their revolution was futile. No, Grantaire was bearing his soul to Enjolras, and for the first time in his life the other man didn’t know what to say.

“Enjolras, you fought for Patria; you died for Patria, you loved Patria,” Grantaire said, “Enjolras, you are my Patria.” Enjolras stared at Grantaire for a moment, finally understanding why the cynic had stuck around for so long when he didn’t believe in what they were doing. Then, before he could over think and question what he was doing, Enjolras walked forward and pressed his lips against Grantaire’s. The drunkard stiffened for a moment before responding enthusiastically. He tangled one hand in Enjolras’ hair and grabbed his hip in the other. The kiss was hard and rough, both of them confused as to what was happening and yet neither wanting to stop. They were so wrapped up in each other that neither noticed Combeferre walking back up the stairs to see what was taking them so long.

“Is everything – oh, sorry.” Enjolras and Grantaire broke apart and turned to see Combeferre standing at the top of the stairs.

“Ah, Combeferre,” Enjolras said, “I, ah…”

“It’s about time,” Combeferre said and Enjolras looked up in shock to see his friend smiling at them.

“Sorry?” he questioned, hating how confusing everything had been since he woke up.

“We have all known how Grantaire felt about you for some time,” Combeferre told him, “But you were so focused on the revolution you didn’t notice.”

“What do you mean you all knew?” Grantaire questioned.

“Sorry mon ami,” Combeferre smiled, “But you are not as subtle as you think. Especially what Joly and I were taking you home one night and you kept going on about how marvelous Enjolras’ speech was and asking why he didn’t notice you more.” Grantaire flushed red and looked down at his feet. Enjolras gave another of his rare smiles and reached out to take Grantaire’s hand. The other man looked him in surprise, a look that Enjolras shared. What was he doing? He didn’t know what had come over him. Combeferre chuckled at the looks of surprise and confusion on both their faces.

“Come on, the others are waiting,” he said and led the way downstairs. As soon as they were outside Enjolras was forced to release Grantaire’s hand as he was surrounded by other students.

“Enjolras!”

“Enjolras, you’re alright!”

“What happened?”

“Enjolras where are we?”

Questions were flying at him from all side and Enjolras wasn’t sure which one to answer first. However, before he had the chance to say anything he felt something small slam into him. Enjolras looked down and saw Gavroche. The child had his arms wrapped around Enjolras and was holding on tightly.

“I’m happy you’re alright Enjolras,” the boy said. Enjolras smiled sadly as the boy stepped back to stand with Courfeyrac. Enjolras looked around at his friends, the feeling of guilt growing inside him. He felt someone tap his shoulder and looked behind him to see Combeferre standing there with a box for Enjolras to stand on.

“Merci mon ami,” Enjolras said, clapping his friend on the shoulder. Enjolras got up on the box and looked at his friends who were gathered around. They were looking at him with such rapture, much the same way they did during their meetings to plan the revolution. Enjolras stood on the box answering questions for what seemed like hours. In that time he felt like he didn’t truly answer any questions, but all the students seemed happy enough with what he said. Finally, many of the students dispersed and Enjolras was left with only his immediate group of friends.

“Come on, let’s go upstairs,” Combeferre suggested, gesturing to the Musain and the others nodded. They went into the upper room and took seats around the table: Enjolras, Grantaire, Combeferre, Courfeyrac, Gavroche, Eponine, Joly, Bossuet, Jehan, Feuilly, and Bahorel. If any of them thought it strange that Grantaire sat right next to Enjolras instead of Combeferre, none of them said anything.

“I owe you all an apology,” Enjolras said suddenly and they all looked at him in surprise.

“Whatever for?” Jehan asked.

“If it were not for me none of you would be here right now,” Enjolras said, “You’d all be alive.” His friends all started to protest, but Enjolras spoke over them.

“Please,” he said pleadingly, “Please I need to say this.” The desperation in his voice was something none of his friends had heard before and it immediately made them all fall silent.

“I thought the people would rise; I thought they would stand with us,” Enjolras took a deep breath, “But I was wrong. I was wrong and it resulted in all of you dead.” They all stared at him as he spoke, not sure how to respond.

“Enjolras –” Joly started, but once again the revolution leader spoke louder.

“Do not tell me this is not my fault Joly!” he exclaimed, “If it were not for me you and Bossuet would be at home with Muischetta, Feuilly would be busy making fans, Gavroche would be doing whatever he wanted!” Enjolras put his head in his hands, trying to get himself in check again. He had never lost control like that in front of anyone, especially not his friends. His breathing returned to normal when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He lifted his head and turned to see Gavroche standing next to him. The other students were all watching the boy curiously, wanting to know what he was going to say to their fearless leader. Gavroche stared at Enjolras for a moment, taking in the tired look on his hero’s face, before he leaned forward and hugged the man tightly for the second time. Enjolras stiffened for a moment before he wrapped his arms around the child.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Gavroche said, pulling away, “I know you think it was, but it wasn’t.”

“You shouldn’t have been at the barricade,” Enjolras said quietly, “We told you to go somewhere safe.”

“I know, but I don’t really do what I’m told, you lot know that,” Gavroche said with a smile, “‘sides, I’d rather have died at the barricade with all of you than in a few weeks on my own.”

“What are you talking about?” Eponine questioned.

“I’ve been on my own a long time, I’ve taken care of myself,” Gavroche said, “But there were some nights where I was starving and freezing and it was you lot who took care of me. You bought me food and let me stay with you on nights when it was too cold to sleep outside. Without you lot I’d have been dead a long time ago.” Gavroche looked around at all his friends for a moment before he turned back to look at Enjolras.

“I’m fine with dying at the barricade cause I got to stand with all of you for France,” Gavroche told him proudly.

“We believed in Patria,” Combeferre added, “And we were all proud to defend her.”

“We still believe in her,” Joly said.

“We believe in you,” Grantaire said quietly and Enjolras looked at him. He smiled slightly and took the drunkards hand, ignoring the happy looks their friends shot them. Maybe this wasn’t the end after all; maybe this was just a new beginning.


End file.
